Hey Pretty
by PinkPixie019
Summary: Response to a challange, taking the song Hey Pretty by poe and made it a song, warning contains a hint at adult stuff.


TITLE: Hey Pretty (Trance/Harper)   
AUTHOR: Katherine (dragon) (Dramkat2)  
SERIES: None As Of Yet   
PAIRING: Trance/Harper  
TYPE: Not really a romance not a general (in-between)  
RATING: R  
ARCHIVE: To Andromeda Romance site yes, and others please ask.   
SUMMARY: Response to a Challenge on Andromeda Romance Board, To take the song Hey Pretty by POE and make it a story, well I did just basically changes a few things so it would fit Trance and Harper.   
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Andromeda, Just the charters I make. I Don't own this song its By POE.  
  
  
  
Trance said she wanted to have some fun,  
in the new slip fighter.  
In the launch bay,   
we slipped into the padded seats.   
Trance took over from there. 

At speeds I didn't think possible,  
she zipped us to a slipportal,   
that sinuous slipportal,  
where she then proceeded to   
pump the fighter in and out of portals,   
sometimes slowing down,   
only to immediately gun it back up again,  
fast, slow, fast-fast, slow,   
sometimes a long pause,   
sometimes a quick one.   
She preferred the tighter ones,   
the sharp controlled jerks,   
jumping out and in,   
before slipping back out,   
only so she could do it all over again,   
until after enough speed, 

and enough jumps,  
and more distance   
than I'd been prepared to expect,   
taking me to parts of space  
I rarely think of and never visit...  
  
Hey pretty,   
don't you wanna take a ride with me   
to my world?  
Hey pretty,   
don't you wanna kick   
and slide through my world?  
  
I can't remember the insane things   
I started babbling about then.   
I know it didn't really matter,   
she wasn't listening.   
She just dropped her seat back and   
told me to lie on top of her,   
on top of that leather catsuit of hers -   
extremely smooth cat suit,   
mind you - 

her hands immediately guiding mine   
over those soft, slightly golden folds,   
positioning my fingers on the shiny metal tab,   
small and round, like a tear,  
then murmuring a murmur so inaudible   
that even though I could feel   
her lips tremble against my ear,   
she seemed far, far away. 

"Pinch it," she'd said,   
which I did,   
lightly,   
until she also said "Pull it,"   
which I also did,   
gently parting the teeth one at a time,   
down, under,   
and beneath, the longest unzipping of my life.  
  
Hey pretty,   
don't you wanna take a ride with me   
through my world?  
Hey pretty,   
don't you wanna kick and slide   
through my world?  
Hey pretty,   
my pretty baby,  
rockin' through my world...  
Hey pretty,   
hey pretty,  
my pretty baby,  
rockin' through my world...  
  
We never even kissed   
or looked into each others eyes -   
our lips just trespassed   
on those inner labyrinths   
hidden deep within our ears,   
filled them with the   
private music of wicked words,   
hers in many languages,   
mine in the off-color of my only tongue,   
until as our tones shifted   
and our consonants spun and squealed,   
rattled faster,   
hesitated,   
raced harder,   
syllables soon melting   
into groans and moans,   
finding purchase in new words or old words,   
or made-up words,   
until we gathered up our heat   
and refused to release it,   
enjoying too much the dark language   
we had suddenly stumbled upon,   
craved to, carved to,   
not a communication really,   
but a channeling of our rumored desires -   
hers, for all I know,   
gone to golden mountains,   
mine banging back to the familiar form,   
that blueish ball  
I still could only see the shape of -   
which, in spite of our separate lusts   
and individual cries,   
still continued to drive us deeper,   
into stranger tones,   
our mutual desire to keep gripping   
the burn fueled by sound,   
hers screeching,   
mine - I didn't hear mine...   
Only hers,   
probably counter-quoting mine,   
a high-pitched cry,   
then a whisper, dropping unexpectedly   
to practically a bark, a grunt,   
whatever -   
no sense anymore,   
and suddenly no more curves, either,   
just the straightaway...

Too bad dark languages rarely survive...


End file.
